The Last Queen (An ACOTAR / Azriel fanfiction)

The Taste of Blood

Seven dead bodies were lined up on the floor.

In the dark cell, the spymaster stood calmly. His eyes carefully took in the featured of each of the dead men.

They had worked for him. He had known them by name.

He had lost spies before, so many times that it was hard to count. But this was different.

If his spies were caught, they would kill themselves before they could be captured so that they never give out any information.

Theses spies had not killed themselves.

They were murdered.

Someone had slit their throats from behind.

Did they want information? What could they have possibly wanted?

The spies had died in the human realm. Their bodies were sent to him. They were sent to the night court as a warning.

He clenched his fists and gritted his teeth in anger and covered their faces.
There was little he could offer them in life and even less in death.

Except finding the new threat against the Night Court and the person who killed them.

His breathing was the only sound in the dark room as he paced the length of the single table.

Who would want to kill the spies in the human realm? Who could possible kill not one, not two, but seven of his spies and dare to send their dead bodies back?

The biggest question still lingered on the horizon of his mind - WHY?

They had saved the human realm. Everyone there was not a slave to Hybern today because of them. Why would anyone want to challenge them?
A muscle in his jaw twitched and his breathing grew harder as he spent the time thinking about this.

Right when he decided he needed to talk to his High Lord about this matter a small incision on the arm on one of the corpses caught his attention.

The wound was sewn shut and a redness was spreading around it. There was a slight buldge in the wound that he might have dismissed as infection if not for the unusual circumstances and that that particular wound was freshly sewn while they had bled out of the other wounds.

If someone wanted to kill them, why would they sew up this one wound in particular?

Azriel quickly got on his feet and took out a knife. He cut open the threads used for the sewing and, sure enough, there was something inside the wound.

A small wooden  cylinder, coated in blood and flesh, sat inside the tiny space.

He carefully took it out and cleaned it with the water in a pitcher. The cylinder had a lid that he screwed open.

Inside, there was one small piece of paper. He hastily read what was written on it.

This is a warning. Any other advancement towards the human realm by any of the High Lords will be met with severe force.
                                              - Daggerheart

Daggerheart.

Of the Human Realm.

Azriel read the note over and over again and upon deciding that he was not hallucinating, briskly walked out the dingy cell. 

Within and hour, all seven spies were buried and four more were on their way to the human realm.

This Daggerheart, whoever he was, had chosen the wrong time to stroke the wrath of the Shadowsinger.